Three Years Gone
by ThisPeregrine
Summary: Three years have past, and the flock members are leading uneventful, idyllic lives, keeping their biggest secret tucked securely inside oversized jackets. Then there's a disturbance…Fang lets his secret slip to a stranger...No one is safe...


Three years gone

_**One**_

The campus exuded a noncommittal air about it. The college's generic, tired motto was "Without Learning Success would not exist", but if some cynic, say me, were to step onto the campus and choose a motto based on its mood, the motto would be, "we offer a wide variety of mediocrity".

I resided in Mackintosh House, a small brick building overlooking a ravine which prevalently known as a giant garbage bin to the less environmentally concerned students.

I didn't really know what I was doing with my life currently. It had been years since I'd heard from any of the flock members, years since I'd heard the word "eraser" in a non life-threatening context, and most horrifyingly of all—years since I'd flown.

See, the flock made a well-needed deal with all the evil corporations who were vying for the bird kids' permanent extinction. They told us if we stopped causing shenanigans and adopted new identities, stopped flying about conspicuously and trying to save Earth (which incidentally doesn't and never needed saving) they would stop sending a collection of fatal assassins after us. You know me. I rejected the offer coolly, added some witty, sarcastic remark, and turned up my nose. But things had started to get a little more dangerous at that point—in short, Nudge lost a toe, Iggy got a concussion, and Gazzy was nearly drowned. The evil corporations were moving at ultra-fast pace to eliminate us. So, being the fearless yet rational leader I was, I called quits. No more fun adventures, no more togetherness, no more flying.

Angel, Gazzy and Nudge were sent to some orphanage in Maine. Fang, Iggy and I were shipped off to separate colleges. As for Dylan, who really knows what happened to him? The evil corporation was very vague about that part of the deal.

Their main concern was keeping us apart. They placed me in a college in New Hampshire, Iggy in Newfoundland (never heard of it? Not surprised) and Fang in California. Nudge and the younglings were at separate orphanages across the US.

And the only awesome part of the deal was that they never once tried to kill me. I mean, not one robot, eraser, or whatnot. I mean, the worst situation I'd been in since the deal was when I'd overslept and missed an exam. But I wasn't overly concerned for my education. I mean, college was fun, I'd made friends, but I missed my family and I missed that sense of_ adventure. _

I guess that was why I was presently standing on the precarious railing of my balcony (with my bulky jacket still on, mind you) looking at the 30-foot drop admiringly.

"Oh god." It was my roommate who'd uttered these horrified, whispered words.

"Max, Max, don't jump!" She begged.

I froze. She'd said she'd be out all night with her boyfriend.

"Max, is this because of the exam you missed?" Mara asked uneasily. "It's fine, Max, you can talk to the professor!"

I sighed, stepped down casually and walked into the room.

Mara stared at me, her face pale, her eyes bulging.

"I was just admiring the view," I told her honestly, sitting on the edge of my bed to pull off my shoes. But what was I going to do after that if she hadn't interrupted? I honestly didn't know. Norwich was a pretty isolated, lonely town, but at least one late-night student or civilian would notice someone flying wide circles above the town.

"_Are you insane?" _

"It wasn't a suicide attempt," I assured her calmly. "I don't care if I missed the exam. Zoology sucks anyway."

Mara herself was a zoology student, and she looked mildly offended at this last comment. It was one of the many things we had in common. One of my defining characteristics she didn't posses was the way I handled dramatic situations—she did not handle them well at all, apparently.

"Max, if you'd just slipped a little"—she choked back a melodramatic sob, then quickly regained composure to continue her admonishment—"you would've fallen _splat _on the ground!"

"Nawww," I said nonchalantly, discarding my shoes in the corner of the cramped room. "I have fantastic balance."

Mara stared blankly. "Max, if you ever do something like that again…" she trailed off.

"Don't worry, the day I die from falling is the day Hell freezes over." I smiled to myself. Of course she wouldn't understand what I meant. Obviously she didn't know why I always wore a bulky jacket even in the mild New Hampshire heat. It was part of the deal.

"Don't be so sure!" Mara warned. She opened her mouth to continue, but closed it after a moment of consideration. She snatched her coat up from the floor and stomped out of the room. I heard the front door slam behind her.

I sank into my bed, sighing. I could hardly express how much I missed Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Angel, and Gazzy. But this was a sacrifice we all had to live with. If we couldn't handle it, then we wouldn't be able to _live_ at all. The corporations would make sure of it.

() () ()

Later that night, I lay restlessly in bed, tossing and turning, tangling myself in my sheets.

Mara was sleeping soundly in her bedroom. I could hear her deep, contented snores. She'd come back very late, and from the sounds of her ungraceful entrance, it was obvious she was drunk. I felt touched that she'd drink herself sick because she was upset about my stint. That meant she would be sad if I died. Good sign in a friendship.

There was a slight tap on the window. I ignored it. A monstrous oak tree lived just outside the building, and its long branches occasionally smacked themselves against my windows if the wind was particularly rough.

I sat up, frowning. But the wind wasn't rough that night. I'd been standing on the balcony and there wasn't even the slightest breeze.

I listened intently. A second tap, this one more persistent.

I ventured towards the window, crouched down, muscles tensing, feeling something I hadn't felt in years: excitement…

Very carefully I thrust open the windows. The vicious wind blew my flimsy white night gown around me.

Hmmm, I thought numbly, there is wind tonight.

But there was something else.

None other than the great Dylan himself was perched on the railing—no bulky jacket or anything—wings extended freely behind him. He was crouched in a predatory way—I felt a twinge of fear.

"Dylan…?"

He stared vacantly at me. "It's been a while," he said flatly.

"Um, yeah, are you, um, not doing the whole _deal_ thing?"

He continued to stare. It was becoming unnerving. "Not at all," he answered.

I started. "How unfair!" I cried.

"The corporation put me to use," he explained. He dropped from the railing and landing softly on his feet. He was wearing what looked like a black wet suit. I frowned at his peculiar choice of clothing. "They hired me as an assassin."

I suppressed a gasp. Two things flashed into my mind at that point: run and fly.

I stumbled across the room in the darkness, pushing my way through furniture, desperately making my way for the front door.

He incapacitated me in seconds.

He pushed my face into the floor, pulling my arms back painfully.

"The deal's off," he said gravely. "Your little boyfriend ruined everything. He told a civilian about how special he is. The corporation is angry. You'll all have to die for his little slip up."

"Fang?" I screamed. "Did you kill him?" I thrashed wildly. I was so unpracticed in this sort of thing. Dylan was easily overpowering me.

"No, we're getting rid of you first," Dylan said with a sadistic snicker. "We want the leader out of the way. No interruptions."

Just then, Mara emerged from her room in her underwear, still drunk, and sleepily demanded, "What's going on, Max?"

She noted Dylan sitting on top of me with my arms in his hands—but mostly she noted the wings, Dylan's, and mine which were splayed our underneath me—and screamed.

"Run Mara!" I shouted.

She obeyed; dashing from the room with speed I didn't know she was capable of—especially in an inebriated state.

Dylan growled. "I'll get rid of her later," he promised.

"Dylan," I said sweetly. I had stopped thrashing for a moment.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Wouldn't this be better if we were a team?"

He loosened his grip on my arms a little. "What do you mean?" he said cautiously.

"I mean…" I continued, and then ran out of lies. So instead, I took advantage of his distracted state of mind and bucked. He toppled off of me with a roar and I made a sprint for the window.

"No you don't, _Maximum Ride_!" He shouted.

Luckily there were wing holes in my nightgown (I slept with them unfolded). I clumsily mounted the railing, sucked in a deep breath, and leapt.

() () ()


End file.
